


Love Potion No. 69

by scandalsavage



Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Love Potion/Spell, Love potions are basically date rape drugs, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Roman is a creep, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22676296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage
Summary: Jason Todd doesn’t speak much. He’s not one of the little know-it-all shits in the front of the class who squirm in their seat, waving their hand in the air when he asks a question. Roman never calls on those kids, the ones who get validation from being able to regurgitate what they’ve read. He chooses one of two kinds, the dumbasses who can’t tie their own shoe laces with a wand, and the wallflowers who just want to exist without drawing attention.Roman is, if nothing else, an equal opportunity bully.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Jason Todd
Series: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407088
Comments: 20
Kudos: 153
Collections: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge





	Love Potion No. 69

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy this thing I’ve been teasing for nearly a year now.
> 
> The title is stupid. I’m sorry. Can’t resist shitty puns.

Roman notices the little Mudblood kid sitting quietly in the back of the class within the first minute of the first day.

New classes are always fun, especially the first year. Working out which brats to favor and which to bully. He doesn’t expect to have to reevaluate that position in the second year. It’s exceedingly rare—though not unheard of—for new students to join the school in later years. 

Usually, a mudblood would immediately fall into the the latter category; torture on principle. One of the few things he has in common with Ra’s. But he likes this one. He still has the urge to make the kid’s life hell. Only in a different way than he would normally pursue; in a way that’s really too good for muggle born filth. So maybe he can strike a balance between favoring and bullying. There’s no law against combining the two. 

Well... there may be a law or two about bullying students but Roman can’t be bothered.

He smells Wayne’s meddling on this one before he even digs into the kid’s past.

Not only is the kid a dirty little human mutant, he was a homeless street rat in the Muggle world before Wayne stumbled upon him and brought him into the fold a year late.

Roman is impressed despite himself. He had assumed the punk would be miles behind the other students and spend the year struggling to catch up. But he might actually be ahead. Wayne must have worked with him before the start of term. 

Jason Todd doesn’t speak much. He’s not one of the little know-it-all shits in the front of the class who squirm in their seat, waving their hand in the air when he asks a question. Roman never calls on those kids, the ones who get validation from being able to regurgitate what they’ve read. He chooses one of two kinds, the dumbasses who can’t tie their own shoe laces with a wand, and the wallflowers who just want to exist without drawing attention.

Roman is, if nothing else, an equal opportunity bully. Why pick on one kid when you can make them all miserable?

The boy is strikingly pretty, that’s the problem. One of them anyway. He’s not the obvious bombshell Wayne’s first charity case was, but those types  _ had _ always been more to Slade’s tastes than Roman’s anyway. 

Jason is more suited to Roman’s proclivities—shy, awkward, small for his age and thin, with bright cerulean eyes that practically shine out from behind shaggy black curls. He chews his lower lip red or sticks out his pink little tongue when he’s concentrating on his work (which is always impeccable) and he has taken to keeping a stack of extra quills in his bag for the frequent instances where he gets so engrossed in what he’s doing, writes so quickly and enthusiastically, that he snaps off the nibs. 

Roman likes the smart ones with lots of potential and even more insecurities. Unfortunately Ra's shares an interest in those types.

One thing that works in his favor is that Slade and Ra's have always had better restraint than Roman, and a sense of honor (meager or performative as it may be). Roman is not inconvenienced by something as markedly  _ muggle _ as a conscious. Unlike Wilson and al Ghul, Roman doesn't need to convince himself that what he's about to do is harmless or right.

Roman wouldn't care whether or not Jason wanted him, even if the kid wasn't making his desire painfully obvious. Why else would the brat take the non-stop belittling without so much as a grumble? Why else would he ask for extra work if not for an excuse to see Roman more?

Not that any of that stuff matters. It's all tertiary. After all, Jason is just a lowly mudblood. Even Wayne won’t miss him when he’s Roman’s.

He watches the kid for two months. Notes that Jason is a bit of a loner and even Grayson can't seem to coax him out of his shell for more than a moment. Roman berates him in class just to see the heat rise in his cheeks; to enjoy the way Jason curls in on himself, tucking his shoulders close, eyes dropping to the floor like he’s ashamed. Likes hearing the stammered stream of apologies.

But the  _ sorry sir _ 's and  _ please sir _ 's are the best part. They make something in Roman light up, a gentle tingle run along the his spine and settle low in his abdomen. 

Amortentia is decidedly not second year material. Fortunately, the class before Jason's is a sixth year and it's not difficult to juggle his lessons to move love potions up a few months. 

It's also surprisingly, stupidly easy to get a couple drops of the kids blood. Which he'll need to tweak the potion into something more... permanent. Just slightly. Once a month, instead of 24 hours. 

Nothing would be more tedious than having to dose the punk every single day. 

He waits until Jason is chopping ingredients the day before and surprises him—bumping his shoulder for good measure. Then he coos down at the boy.  _ Oh dear! How clumsy of me. I do hope you're alright. Here, son, let me help.  _ Jason's face is rightfully, adorably mystified by Roman's doting as he wraps a handkerchief around the long slice on the boy's finger and applies pressure.

Potions are Roman's domain. He understands that there will be no  _ real  _ feelings coming from this. Works better for him. He'll be stuck with the kid until he's graduated. Roman knows that. Won't be able to release Jason, even if he loses interest, otherwise the squirt might say something to Wayne. But at least he has the option of ditching Jason later if he gets bored. 

Not to mention the blood alters the side effects of the potion, in a deeply desirable way. Not only will the kid become obsessed with him, but he'll become delightfully obedient. 

If he had to guess, Roman would say that's why this particular version of the love spell doesn't seem to be in any books. He's not arrogant enough to think he's the first to discover it. But he's happy to take advantage of the fact that no one will suspect.

Sucking the drops of crimson off the snowy fabric and releasing them into the pearlescent liquid between classes is as easy as a flick of his wand. More purposefully pricking his own thumb and adding his own blood to the mixture is even simpler. 

Aromas waft through the room as the class enters. Amortentia (or in this case, Amo _ roman _ , as Roman calls it in his mind), always has the sharp, tangy, metallic edge of fresh spilled blood, rusted iron, salty like tears, and the warm, rich scent of leather. He wonders, vaguely and with no real interest, what it smells like to Jason.

Maybe he'll ask. Before, and again after. Just to see if there is any difference. 

He makes today's lesson a competition. A simple Sleeping Draught that  _ should _ easily be within the class' abilities. He doesn't have high hopes for most of them though. Only a few of these little shits rank even average intelligence. Roman is confident that Jason will surpass them all with even minimum effort. 

He carries the cauldron of love potion away on the pretense of cleaning up while the brats work. Instead, he carefully pours most of it into a vat to save for later use. He fills a dropper with the rest and injects it into the cake that will be the prize for the winner.

Which will be Jason, even if Roman wasn't going to cheat for him anyway.

At the end of the period, Jason makes his way to the front of the room for his reward as his classmates file out muttering amongst themselves. Roman is careful to give one of the other students a note to take to their next professor, explaining that Jason Todd will not be attending that class today and to please send his assignment with one of the other Ravenclaws.

The boy approaches with the same uncertainty he does all their interactions, positive that the professor is going to pick apart everything he did, right or wrong. He waits patiently on the other side of the desk as Roman makes a show of being busy until the door is latched behind the last brat.

"You did excellent work today, Mr. Todd," Roman says finally. 

When he turns back around, the kid's eyes are narrowed, focused down on the surface of Roman's work counter, lips pursed for a heartbeat before he says, "Thank you, sir."

He says it like he expects a "but". And that's probably fair. Usually there is a "but". Roman has enjoyed getting Todd's hopes up just to see the look on his face when he's told he wasn't good enough.

_ But _ that's not going to happen today. 

The silence of the classroom makes the scrape of the plate across the wooden surface thunderous and menacing. The kid even shudders a little, bless his soul. 

"Your prize," Roman explains as Jason squints at the chocolate cupcake now resting innocently between them. "For winning the competition."

"Cake?" His eyes go wide after he says it, like it slipped out before he could think it through. And  _ usually _ Roman would absolutely make him regret the slip.

This time, Roman just grins at him. "My father's secret recipe. Everyone who ever tried it was positively  _ smitten _ ." 

It has the benefit of being kind of true. That's where he got the idea. Even if his father never used it for anything more than the occasional dalliance with a one night stand who otherwise would have never given him the time of day.

Jason eyes it warily. Kid is too smart for his own good. 

"Uh... th-thank you, sir. But I'm not hungry."

"It's your reward for—"

"Your  _ sincere _ praise is reward enough, Professor. Honestly." He hikes his bag higher up his shoulder and shifts towards the door. "I'm gonna be late for my next class."

Roman sighs—studiously ignoring the way certain parts of his anatomy react to the idea of his praise being enough for the punk—flicks his wand at the door and mutters, " _ Colloportus." _

Heavy metal scrapes against wood, echoing through the room with ominous finality. The boy freezes and Roman watches with  _ immense _ satisfaction as his skinny little throat bobs with a gulp.

"You've been excused from your final class for the day." Roman hums as Jason turns back to him. He taps the edge of the plate with a black-gloved finger. "Go on."

The kid drops his bag to the floor and, for the first time, looks up to meet Roman's eyes. "What do you want from me?"

Roman's tissue thin veneer vanishes and he fixes the little shit with a sharp, steely glare. 

"I want you to  _ eat," _ he snaps, over-enunciating the last word and shoving the plate toward the boy.

Those sparkling gemstone blue eyes glance down at the cake and when they come back up satisfaction floods through him at the flicker of fear behind them.

"What are you going to do to me?" Jason asks softly.

Roman grins at him. Not the fake, insufferable smile he forces on his face when he interacts with others. This one is real. Sharp. Victorious.

He moves around the counter to stand in the boy's space, gently taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Such a smart boy," he says, causing Jason to scowl and jerk his head away. 

Roman smirks. "I like that about you." 

He moves slowly, deliberately; reaches over, picks up the cupcake, peels off the paper cup and holds the treat up to the kid's lips. "Tell me what you smell _. _ "

Jason narrows those gloriously expressive eyes but his nostrils flare as he sucks in a deep breath. 

"Chocolate," he snips at first referring to the cake and frosting. Then he breathes in again and his lids flutter closed. "And... Bruce's douchey cologne? Fresh baked snickerdoodles. That dusty, musky smell of old books and libraries. And..." he scrunches his nose in distaste, "something else. Something sharp and metallic. Feels like it doesn't belong.

"What is that?" he asks, looking back up to the professor, curiosity winning out over the concern.

Roman just smiles at him again. " _ Eat. _ "

The hesitation is expected. So is the way Jason swallows hard and leans in after a moment. Roman can't help but fixate on the way those lips stretch wide in a perfect little 'o'. Imagines them stretched around other things. Gags. Toys. 

_ Him _ . 

It only takes a single bite. Then the boy's eyes glaze over briefly before he gasps and his pupils blow wide when he focuses on Roman's face. 

"There we go, son." He reaches up with his free hand and brushes back a strand of raven curls. Jason  _ shivers _ and leans into his touch. 

Damn, Roman knows his shit. 

"Now what do you smell?"

There is no hesitation this time. Jason sniffs once more and Roman nearly rolls his eyes when the first answer is chocolate again. But then the kid continues.

"Worn leather. Dittany and Camphirated Spirit...  _ blood _ ."

With a smirk, Roman sets the cake down. Then he wraps a hand around the back of Jason's head, getting a grip on a fistful of hair.

He tugs the kid close, head pulled back putting his neck in a harsh arch, throat on display. All Jason does is gasp.

After wiping at a stray smudge of frosting at the corner of that mouth, Roman barely presses his thumb to the seam of Jason's lips before they're parting to grant him access. 

He watches, almost mesmerized as the boy instinctively sucks the gloved digit, swirling his tongue around in a teasing, tickling way.

"What do you want right now, son?" he asks, after a blissful minute.

Blue eyes shine out from under thick, long lashes and stray curls, making Roman's blood rush low fast. "You," Jason breathes, shifting further into Roman's hold. "To make you happy. Just... whatever  _ you  _ want."

"Splendid," Roman  _ purrs,  _ moving the hand in the brat's hair down to grab him by the nape and steering him toward the seating area in the corner of the room. 

Todd follows his lead easily, allowing himself to be directed without comment or resistance. Roman can already tell this was one of his best ideas. 

Roman sits in the armchair as the kid stands, waiting patiently for his next order.

“You made that quite a bit more difficult than it needed to be, didn’t you?” Roman asks while admiring the wide black pupils ringed in fiery blue that follow his every move, and the slight part of pretty lips.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ll have to be punished,” he hums, looking the boy up and down, imagining what’s waiting for him under all those layers. “Take off your robe, undo your trousers, and come here.”

The little slut practically trips over himself to obey. Once he’s done as ordered, Roman grabs him by the wrist hard enough to bruise and jerks him down.

With a small yelp, the boy splays over Roman’s lap. He’s shockingly light. Todd can’t weigh more than 70 lbs. soaking wet. Roman knew he was small for his age—he’s easily the shortest kid in the class by at least 5 inches—but this is better than he could have hoped for. 

It’s going to be so easy to throw this one around.

A single rough yank to the waistbands of the trousers and the briefs beneath them earn Roman another surprised noise. Todd’s hands fly to Roman’s thigh and twists in the fabric of the slacks as he steadies himself.

The kid gasps and wriggles when Roman smoothes a leather-gloved hand over the now exposed, rounded swell of his ass. Keeps going until his hand wraps around a scrawny knee then spreads it wider.

He drags his fingers up along the inside of Todd’s thigh, drinks up the full body shudder he gets when his finger  _ accidentally _ glance over the boy’s balls.

Without warning, Roman brings his palm down. Hard. 

The loud snap of leather against bare flesh echoes through the classroom followed immediately by a sharp cry of pain, pitched high and punched out of young lungs.

It’s such a lovely sound. So he does it again. 

And again. 

And again. Strikes boy’s ass, the tops of his thighs, “misses” occasionally and nicks the thin, sensitive skin of his sack. Beats the little slut until shouts turn to whimpers before finally turning to sobs. 

Then he keeps going.

Should have made the bitch count, Roman thinks as he watches the red handprints start to purple in front of his eyes. He makes a mental note to remember for next time. 

Kid’s going to have a hard time sitting for the foreseeable future. 

The way that skinny body rocks against him on each hit, the whines driven out with every connection, the way the boy tries to bury his face in Roman’s leg, tears soaking into Roman’s slacks... finally touching and  _ owning _ the object of his desire...

It’s not long before Roman finds himself getting hard. 

He waits as long as he can. Until the need for relief is overwhelming. Until he’s long past losing count of how many times he’s struck the kid.

Then he lets the little thing sink boneless to the floor.

Roman licks his lips, watches Todd pant for breath, while he reaches into his trousers and pulls himself out. 

The image of chaining his new pet up under his counter at the front of the room, teaching classes while boy warms his cock, flash in Roman’s mind. Eating meals and attending events with Wayne, knowing the insufferable man’s most recent stray is firmly in his thrall—how he’ll smile at the bastard and make small talk while thinking about how Todd looks with his mouth stretched wide around Roman, the sounds he makes bouncing in Roman’s lap... 

Threading his fingers into now damp curls, Roman yanks the kid’s face to his aching cock. 

Roman hums as soft lips wrap around him, as velvet heat engulfs him.

“Hope you’ve got strong knees, baby. You’re gonna  _ live _ on them from now on.”


End file.
